A Dozen Roses
by Aradia2
Summary: Maybe it’s not so bad being a fairy princess. And maybe I will get my happily ever after. Maybe.


Title: A Dozen Roses  
  
Author: Aradia  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Lex, Lana or anything pertaining to Smallville  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: Maybe it's not so bad being a fairy princess. And maybe I will get my happily ever after. Maybe.  
  
Notes: Switching POV b/w Lex and Lana. I don't think it's that hard to figure out.  
  
Special Thanks to Christie for the beta and for being so nice. You are the first person I've talked to in the Smallville fandom and you were wonderful. Thanks.  
  
!!!  
  
I'm twenty-four today. This isn't one of those birthdays that you get all hyped up for. There are no surprise parties, no anticipation, it's just another year. Birthdays like this are usually spent celebrating with my friends. Just a few of us hanging at the Talon laughing and sharing memories of birthdays past. This year was no exception and I couldn't wait until it was just us giggling over the year that Clark wore a dress during a game of Truth or Dare, or making fun of Chloe for throwing up after only three beers on her twenty first.  
  
It didn't happen. Nobody rushed the Talon with decorations and a birthday cake. Pete didn't spike my drink and Clark didn't sneak my present in my purse for me to open later. It seems that I forgot I was the only one left in Smallville. I was the only one not off having adventures and living my life. I'd gone to Metropolis for college of course and I swore I'd never come back but here I am running a small town café and turning into my Aunt Nell. Isn't it funny how Clark, who never understood my need to leave Smallville, is out in the world seeing all the places I've read about and I am sitting in a closed coffee shop downing cheap whiskey and brooding about life? Isn't it just hilarious?  
  
!!!  
  
I look over my schedule for the day, noting a lunch meeting that I hope to push back. Mr. Holden has the bushiest beard I've ever seen and he apparently likes leftovers. It's not really the type of atmosphere I have in mind for what could become a very hostile takeover of a small, annoying company. My eyes sweep the rest of the planner, not seeing anything unusual or important. I almost miss the small note at the bottom of the page.  
  
Roses, why am I buying roses? There's nothing there except the word and I wonder, yet again, why I haven't fired my secretary yet. She came highly recommended but the woman never writes names down, just little suggestive words. "Who the hell am I buying roses for?" Then the date catches my attention. Lana. It's her birthday today. I always hand-deliver roses for her birthday, or at least I used to.  
  
Once upon a time I would have knocked on the Talon's door after closing, holding a dozen roses. She would have smiled and come to unlock the door. As soon as she did, a stream of people would have rushed in from behind my back. There arms would be filled with party decorations and the rest of the night would be spent laughing and talking. At some point her smile would have found me and a small thank you would grace her lips; a single rose, most of the stem cut off, tucked behind her ear.  
  
"Christine, could you order a dozen roses to be delivered here by eleven tonight?"  
  
!!!  
  
Steady, steady. I think to my shaking hand. The alcohol is beginning to go to my head and apparently my hand as well. Everything is a little blurry around the edges and my dark thoughts have -- if not lightened -- at least taken on a drunken hilarity that is faintly amusing. I finish pouring my drink and raise it in a toast.  
  
"To Lana's twenty-fourth birthday and the realization that she will forever be a fairy princess." A sob gets strangled in my throat and I begin to giggle, which does not help the whiskey go down smoothly at all. Instead, it goes down the wrong pipe and I'm coughing up all over the counter. I had wiped it down just over two hours ago but now it's covered in alcohol and spit. The rag is still sitting next to me. It's almost dry but I figure it'll do and begin to mop up the mess.  
  
There's a knock on the door and for a moment I believe I'm imagining it. I think my mind's playing tricks on me because no one's coming here tonight. There will be no impromptu parties, no wild decorations and no roses. It's just me tonight.  
  
The knock comes again and I realize that I'm not imagining it. Someone's at the door and here I am sopping up spit and giggling like a drunken moron. What an embarrassment. I turn to see just who I'm entertaining with my antics and there he is gripping a bouquet of roses.  
  
The smile is impossible because I'm still in shock and also because my face muscles aren't quite cooperating with me. But my legs are still eager to do what I tell them to and I'm walking, almost racing, to the door. I open it and stare. He's staring right back. His expression is confident, as usual. A smug smile tugs at his lips and he stands straight and tall but something in his eyes says he's just as nervous as I am. We stand there for what seems like a million years before I release the breath I'd been holding and whisper his name.  
  
"Lex."  
  
!!!  
  
She's beautiful. She always has been but I don't think I noticed it this astutely before. She stands in front of me and her long brown hair dances over her face in the slight breeze. Her hand is clenching the door as mine wants to clench the flowers. She's shocked, nervous and more than a little drunk. Her cheeks are blushed red and she's swaying slightly. I don't know what to say possibly for the first time in my life and it seems neither does she because she continues to stand in front of me not offering even a greeting. Then I hear her sigh and like the wind had whispered her voice drifts to me.  
  
"Lex." She says.  
  
"Lana. Happy Birthday." I smile broadly and suddenly she's grinning at me. One hand snatches the flowers as the other pulls me into the café. She's laughing and spinning; spinning me with her. The flowers are slipping from her grasp and falling to the floor but she keeps a hold of one somehow tucking it behind her ear as she spins. I'm dizzy and nauseous and she's still laughing. Finally she releases me and goes crashing to the floor, landing on her butt. I stumble back into one of the big arm chairs and sit down before I too fall over. She is still laughing. Her breath is fast, almost hyperventilating and she's flush with alcohol and adrenaline. She sits on the floor surrounded by pink roses and laughs.  
  
!!!  
  
The flowers have been picked up and dumped in a vase. Coffee was poured by a much more sober and steady Lex and I finished cleaning the whiskey-spit off the counter. Now we're sitting across from each other on two huge arm chairs. We sip our coffee silently and stare at each other over the tops of our mugs.  
  
Finally he clears his throat and I know he's getting ready to say something brilliant and insightful. He'll be completely understanding and soon I'll be dumping all my "woe is me's" all over him. I know it and I can't stop it. I don't think I want to.  
  
"What are you doing all alone on your birthday, Lana?"  
  
There it is. The question that holds that faint underlying of knowledge. He understands me. He knows me, sometimes better then I know me and he knows the answer to his question. He knew before he asked it. He knew before I unlocked the door and let him in tonight. I know he has the key to the Talon. He owns half of it. I just don't understand how he got the key that unlocks me.  
  
"I guess I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself. I miss my parents and special days are always the hardest."  
  
"So you're sitting here brooding into bad whiskey over your parents who have been dead for two decades and would probably not appreciate their only daughter spending her time crying over them?" The sarcasm in his voice was dripping all over me. I was drowning in it.  
  
"Yes...maybe? Maybe not."  
  
"Didn't think so."  
  
"So, maybe I was thinking about how I'm twenty-four and still stuck in Smallville doing the same things I did in high school minus the fun part. Maybe I'm thinking that even after two decades and plenty of strange occurrences I'm still a fairy princess."  
  
"Ahh." That sound carries more understanding then any of Clark's long silent looks or Aunt Nell's overcompensation. That one sigh tells me that he knows. He knew before I answered the question.  
  
"Maybe being a fairy princess isn't as bad as it sounds."  
  
"Maybe it's worse."  
  
"Maybe it is."  
  
"Why did you come tonight, Lex?"  
  
"Don't change the subject."  
  
"Don't avoid the question." It's a stand off. I know I'm going to lose. No one ever wins a staring contest with the unshakable Lex Luthor. Except maybe Lana Lang because he's looking away. He's staring into his mug. I still don't think he's going to answer me.  
  
"I always bring you roses on your birthday."  
  
"Not since I was nineteen."  
  
"I decided it was time to start again." He smiles. I smile back. Maybe it's not so bad being a fairy princess. And maybe I will get my happily ever after. Maybe. 


End file.
